


Importance

by free_will



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas in Dean's clothes, Cutesy, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Tension, Winter, adorable Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:58:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6142246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/free_will/pseuds/free_will
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The true beginning of Dean and Castiel's relationship.</p><p>Adorable winter fluff with a majestic first kiss. And handholding of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Importance

**Author's Note:**

> First post! Hope you enjoy :)

You could say it was the beginning. It really wasn’t, though. The beginning was when the hunter was on his knees and the angel was beating him and the hunter used three words to wake him up. The beginning was when the hunter was burning in the coldest way and the angel put out the fire by lifting him from his nightmare. The beginning might have even been when the hunter was born, when it wasn’t even decided that he was a hunter, when it wasn’t supposed to turn out that way; when the angel looked down upon him and knew.

But those are all the beginnings of different things, and this is the beginning of the truth. Dean and Castiel both stood outside in the cold November air. They were at a children’s playground only a few blocks from the Men of Letters bunker. The first snow that had been seen in months settled in a thin layer over the freezing grass. Castiel looked at every flake of soft ice falling slowly from the sky and thought, "I wouldn’t mind." Dean thought something completely different. He thought, "I hope this doesn’t happen to him." The contrast of their opinions was good. Castiel’s was accepting and Dean’s was caring. It was right.

They stood under a gathering of pine trees that gave them a nice view of the neighborhood and deserted playground. Underneath the trees, the ground was still green and brown. It would be a while before snow found it’s way under here. The two of them stood, protected and shadowed. They leaned against the wood and talked quietly. They were both content. Sam was inside the bunker, drinking hot chocolate and reading. He knew they would be back soon. He knew they needed this time together.

“I like winter,” said the angel, looking at the surrounding scene rather than at the man he was talking to.

“Me too,” Dean replied, looking in the same direction. He wore a heavy coat to protect himself from the cold, but he lacked gloves or a hat and the tips of his ears and fingers started to go numb. It was okay. Everything was okay right now. It was okay that Cas only wore one of Dean’s long-sleeved shirts and a pair of his jeans because Cas wasn’t affected by the cold. Even if his skin was icy like a marble statue, he didn’t feel it.

Dean looked at Cas. His ashy black hair stood up since it wasn’t gelled down as usual. Dean had persuaded him that he looked better without it. Right now, Dean was happy that he’d said that-- that he’d given Cas his clothes-- because right now, Cas looked adorable. The sleeves of his shirt were just a little too long and the shoulders sagged around his smaller frame. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were the slightest bit rosy and the rest of his skin was so pale that he nearly blended in with the snow. Against the colorless canvas of his skin, the angel’s eyes were that much more vibrant. Their blue color reminded Dean of the ocean. Once he looked into them he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away. He almost said something about Cas’s appearance, but his pride held him back.

Cas, however, had no pride to filter his words from his thoughts and said to Dean, “You look very nice right now.”

Dean blushed and laughed. “Um, thanks?”

“I mean it,” Cas insisted. “Your skin is reacting to the cold and it makes you look… cute.” Cas seemed proud of his word choice. Dean blushed harder. “Hey, man, stop tearing down my manly ego.”

Cas squinted his eyes and faintly smiled. The two of them were standing closer than Dean would usually allow. Castiel was overly aware of this. Their feet lined up, their shoulders bumped every few seconds, their foggy breaths mixed in front of them. Cas was happy about this. He liked sharing smaller space with Dean. He liked being close to him. It gave him an opportunity to memorize the placement of the flecks of gold in his green eyes, to map the constellations of his freckles. Dean caught Cas counting them and said, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry for staring,” Cas said, looking down.

“It’s okay. I know I’m sight for sore eyes but you’ve gotta tear your eyes away at some point.” Dean chuckled as he said this and it made Cas follow suit.

“You really are a sight for sore eyes,” he said, understanding the saying. Dean looked at him with a kind expression despite the warning signs saying "Stop! Feelings up ahead! Turn around now!" At this moment, he had enough courage to ignore them. Whether it was the snow or the time of year or the tea he’d drank earlier, Dean felt different. He felt open. And it was good. It was a good feeling. Dean hoped to feel this way all the time.

Maybe that’s why he leaned his face closer to Castiel’s. The angel’s eyes widened and his breath undetectably sped up. Dean took a moment to ask himself, "Do I really want this? Is this a road I want to go down?" And the only thing he could think in response was, "Yes, yes, yes." But something in him was still utterly unsure. This was a realm totally knew to him. Of course he’d kissed plenty of girls in his lifetime, but only one other man, and that was only what that man had told him after a long, crazy night of drinks when Dean was twenty-two. It might not even have happened. Dean had never felt the urge to kiss any other man than Castiel, and Castiel wasn’t even a man. He was a genderless angel in a man’s body. Dean reminded himself this. It made him feel better.

Not only was this his first somewhat-homosexual experience, but it was also Cas. That was something that Dean had always known would never happen. Until lately, he’d never even thought about it. Recently, though, Dean had given in to the inevitable bond between them. He’d let his feelings seep through in small ways. This was the most he would have ever let himself go.

And he was so, so glad that he was.

It was the smallest of touches. Miniscule. Only a few points of contact. The two of Dean’s lips brushed Cas’s bottom one, sheepishness engulfing the moment. There was a beauty to it. Because even though Dean wanted so much more of Cas and Cas wanted so much more from Dean, that was enough. The smallest touch to the lips was like a tsunami crashing on a dry desert. In slow motion, everything snapped. Even though the average person would hardly feel it, for Dean and Castiel both it was like an explosion. Every atom of Dean’s lips connecting with every atom of Cas’s was important. Each point of contact mattered. Each point of contact changed the way fate would play out. It was so very important.

Cas was beside himself. He never expected this to happen but was ecstatic that it did. This is what he’d always wanted, what he’d played through his head countless times, what he’d always end up hoping for even though his better judgment told him not to.

When they parted, Dean let his eyes stay closed for a few seconds. When they finally fluttered open, he smiled. Cas smiled, too.

“What was that for?” the angel asked after a while.

“For being the greatest thing that has ever happened to me,” Dean replied honestly. The blue in Cas’s eyes brightened at that, and his his pink lips turned into an even wider smile.

“I love you,” he says. Dean returns his smile.

“I love you, too.”

Those words were important. Their fingers intertwining as they walked along the sidewalk was important. Each footprint left in the ever-building blanket of snow was important. Each snowflake landing on top of their heads was important. Dean and Castiel would share many more kisses in the future, whether they were sweet, languid, rough, sentimental, passionate, hard, soft, or hesitant and careful like their first. And every one of those was important, too. But this was the most important of them all. Dean knew that. Castiel knew that. After that kiss, everything shifted into place. And it was good.

**Author's Note:**

> I know winter is quickly coming to an end but why not close the season off with an adorable fluffly fic? Hope you liked it!


End file.
